Lyrics:
ain't chingy, but I'm just one call away
And you know that I'm yurs each and everyday
And it don't matta what the haters say
But now you askin' me
Welcome to misery where the killers pop it up and when I say pop it up I mean deal wit da tug of the gun
We can do it if anybody want it where
You Gon' Do Wit It
I ain't got no man, you ain't got no girl
So baby here is the question
What You Gon' Do Wit It
Can a player get a table dance
Hold up
chingy
Dub through charlotte
With addias
But you niggas never see me
Hit a bitch with the
Mike bibby pump
Jack it on her stomach
That ain't my son
Keep my
Young Ke Ke he down wit us
South Side nigga and we down to bust I'm number one
[Scarface]
Too many niggas takin' rap for a joke
You be up for one
Yea, um
What up girl
I know you looking for a lil bit of company tonight
Well
You should come fuck wit me
I'm telling you
We bout to have some fun
caught up
[Yummy:] Got me so stuck
[Quana:] Woah woah
[Yummy:] Well it's overwhelmin
[Quana:] What I'm feeling
[Yummy:] Got me hatin'
[Quana:] By his
and get it
We ride or die why
'Cause my niggas is wit it
Now what y'all want me to do
Keep your shit the hardest
It's about to go down
Niggas is
wit y'all
Y'all boys betta put 'em up, put 'em up what
Put 'em up, put 'em up, p-p-put 'em up
This is a stick up and y'all boys betta give it up
glamorous like Phat Farm fashion
Simmons name sinamous wit this cash
It's our passion... what!?
[Run]
Yo basically I'm here to rename rap, it ain't rap
come by kid
'Cause I be up in the wide city wit I.G., Biiiitch
[Chorus]
It's murda, you know when we come
Niggaz it's murda, ain't nowhere to hide
I'm about to say is straight up
Real talk, no cut, I don't play bout' it
There ain't a price you can put on a girl who knows (uh-huh)
Just what
weight by the key and backed up every gram
And stay ready for busting wit the pistol in they hand
I'm preaching murder like a vicious reverend
About
' the AK-47 (nigga what's up it' y'all now?)
Runnin' wit' the AK-47 (watch them all fall down)
Runnin' wit' the AK-47 (nigga what's up it' y'all now?)
And a bag full of burn, trap on the curb
Slap that bitch on the third, niggas on coke wit' a slur
Can't see shit but a blur, crank up that Chevy, let it
up wit' ones (Like father, like son bitch!)
All brown paper bag (what they gon' do)
Fill it up wit' ones (Angel on the beat)
Fill it, fill it up
at her hips, (what?) look at her legs, ain't she stacked? (stacked)
I sure wouldn't mind hittin' that from the back (back)
I like it when I touch it cuz
to lick
Now I'm up in the stu' tryna make me a hit
Drop this shit on my page, Ima blow up wit this
I got that drip and that Swankk, it's equip
They know
fuck do you mean
Run up a bag wit my bitch and my team
I wasn't shit, now I'm the shit
Double cup squirt and some DJ my shit
I fuck it up, I stay
Everywhere I stay flossin' them things
I'm like bang bling bling blang chingy bling bang
What the fuck bitch? Hurry up and suck
move along, c'mon, until it's
what?)
She recognize the pimpin' and she gon' get wit it
Roll up
First thing she seen when I fell through
A little bit of talk but I walks with
rehearsing
Breaking curses
Saving souls while spitting verses & teaching verses
That's my purpose
Watch what He do through my songs
Play wit me but don't play
back you fools wit tools, set 'em straight
What you want nigga? What it's gon' be?
I'ma be leavin' you leakin' with clip in the palmy
I'ma son of a gun,
scatter, it'll make ya throw up
Then I take advantage, you can't manage
To get up, all you can do is sit up, I get lit up
Hit up, Ice Cube tearing shit up
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